Bottle Cap
by spittingllama7856
Summary: Hermione convinces Ron to go see The Nutcracker with her on Christmas Eve, where it just so happens that a familiar face shows up during the intermission, bringing up suppressed desires and completely rewriting the direction he thought his life was going to take. EWE, mpreg, one-shot. Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy.


Stacked With: Shipping Wars, Starry Strums

Ship: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy

Representations: Brave Draco Malfoy; Supportive Ron Weasley

Individual Challenges: Long Haul (Y); Gryffindor MCx2; Slytherin MC; Eating Cake; Old Shoes (Y); Ship Sails; Lunar Era (Y)

Primary & Secondary Challenges: Spinning Plates (Demo); Queen Bee (Demo); Maschismo (Demo); Tomorrow's Shade (Demo); Hot Stuff (Demo); Misshapen Pods (Demo)

Warning: Male Pregnancy

Word Count: 4244

* * *

Ron had never really been one for performances, or theater, or music in general. He found all of it boring, especially if he didn't know the plot of the play or the artist of the songs, but he did at least try to watch and be respectful of everyone involved. Since Hermione had started to drag him along to these things, he'd quickly realized that sitting still, not falling asleep, and applauding after the _entire_ thing was proper etiquette. The first two were common sense—he knew that after being reprimanded on multiple occasions for it—but the most embarrassing thing for him was still clapping very enthusiastically after the first movement in his first performance in an attempt to seem like he genuinely enjoyed it.

Did he know that it _wasn't_ the end? No. But did Hermione still tease him for it later? Yes. He wasn't able to _not_ remember that every time Hermione sought him out in the Burrow to ask about going somewhere with her, where they were staying for Christmas break their 8th year.

"Ron, do you want to go to see _The Nutcracker _with me?" Hermione asked, seemingly appearing out of nowhere as he dug through the kitchen cupboards, looking for a snack. He sighed, attempting to do so internally but failing, before he turned around with goldfish, a delicacy Ginny had discovered, and stared at her.

"Why don't you ever ask Harry to go with you to these things?" he replied, not wanting to go, but knowing he would feel like a terrible person if he didn't agree. It was so hard to say no to Hermione.

"Because Harry always says no when I ask," she said, shrugging. She didn't seem bothered by it, but she looked so hopeful for _him _to go with her instead of Harry. She was leaning against the counter, her hair half pulled out of her face, brown eyes practically _begging_ him to say yes. How could Harry ever say no to her? Ron was going to have to take some pointers from him. In the meantime, he sighed.

"Fine, Hermione. But this time, we're sitting on the end of the row so I can actually get out to go to the bathroom without tripping over people," he said, narrowing his eyes sternly at Hermione, pointing a finger at her. She beamed and agreed to his conditions, almost skipping from the kitchen and up the stairs. He rolled his eyes, chewed on a handful of goldfish, and wondered what he got himself into this time.

~xXx~

Ron had been told to change his outfit three times while he was getting ready to go see _The Nutcracker_ on Christmas Eve, as was the custom for him and Hermione at that point. At first, his clothes were too informal, then they were too smelly—even though they were clean—and then they clashed with his hair. Finally, Hermione ended up accepting him wearing just a button-down shirt and some slacks. Which was exactly what he'd picked out in the first place. He rolled his eyes as he changed yet again.

"Should've said no," Harry said sing-song from the doorway. Ron shot him a look and buttoned the last button. He was leaning against the door-frame, arms crossed as he stared at Ron.

"I _can't_. It's her puppy eyes," he muttered, neck flushing. Harry's lips twitched. "What, you don't get those from her?" he asked, irritated by Harry's amusement.

"No, not at all," Harry said, grinning at Ron's sigh.

"Ronald, are you ready?" Hermione called from downstairs. "We're going to be late if we don't go now."

Ron took a deep breath and raised his eyebrows at Harry, who was scratching his nose to stop himself from laughing. _Again_. He went downstairs to where Hermione was waiting after saying goodbye to Harry, smiling at the excited look in her eyes as she grabbed his hand. Ron hugged his mother goodbye at her insistence before marching out into the snow, shivering at first before Hermione's warming charm took affect. He would've done it himself, but Hermione always beat him to it.

Even though he didn't really want to go in the first place, Hermione's excited energy just rubbed off on him. They apparated to London, near the Royal Opera House where Ron and Hermione had been a few times in the past six months. Ron always ended up staring at the high ceilings, the boxes rising up on the sides of the room, elegant and intricate designs.

Ron still thought Hogwarts was better, though. It was always slightly hotter in the theater, when Hogwarts never was.

Hermione managed to get them closer to the front than they usually sat _and_ they got to be on the end. Even though he didn't really want to watch _The Nutcracker_, he was at least in a good mood about the seating. He had hope that it might even be more interesting than he'd anticipated.

Within the first fifteen minutes, he had nearly fallen asleep. It didn't help that he didn't really follow the plot, so he wasn't very invested in it, but he did enjoy listening to the live orchestra. He had to admit that the music was very well-performed and pleasant—it even fit with the choreography of the ballet. It was at least pleasing to see.

At some point, Ron fell asleep, and Hermione woke him during the intermission.

"Be back quickly, Ron!" she called after him as he marched up the aisle to the bathroom. People were filing past him, hardly anyone actually going the same direction he was. He realized Hermione must've woken him up towards the end of the intermission, which was mildly frustrating, but he supposed it was on her if he didn't make it back before intermission ended.

He walked in, eyes adjusting to the low, warm lights and simple gray tiling. He'd been in there a few times, and not much had changed about it, except that there weren't many other people in there at the moment, save an oddly familiar blond using one of the urinals. Ron walked to the one furthest from the man, telling himself only to look over for a second, as to not be rude for staring, and had to do a double-take. None other than Draco Malfoy was standing there, taking a piss, somehow in the exact same bathroom at the exact same time Ron was after nearly a year of not seeing each other at all.

A wave of emotions washed over Ron, anger and suspicion among them, but namely regret. He regretted how he'd treated Malfoy during their years at Hogwarts together. Ron went back for his last year, but Malfoy didn't. He'd virtually disappeared from public, with his father in Azkaban and his mother allegedly going off the deep end.

Regret twisted in his stomach sometimes, if he let himself think about it. As much as he'd despised Malfoy at Hogwarts, he couldn't help but think that he didn't deserve to lose his parents. Merlin knew that they were all Malfoy had. Not to mention that, had Ron just grew up before fifth year and accepted that he was attracted to Malfoy, maybe he could've changed how things went for all of them, and maybe he wouldn't have put so much strain on himself pretending to be straight.

Ron blinked, flushing when Malfoy looked up and met his stare. His immediate reaction was to keep gazing into his eyes, almost like a challenge, but he forced himself to clear his throat and look away. He shook his head—he'd even told himself not to stare!

Ron finished, zipped his pants up, and awkwardly turned back to the sinks to wash his hands. He held his breath momentarily when Malfoy stepped up beside him to do the same.

"Weasley," Malfoy said tonelessly as he rolled up his sleeves and started to wash his hands beside Ron, only the soap dispenser, inches of space, and a stack of disposable towels between them. He couldn't recall them ever being so close together without cursing each other, or at least not fighting. It was strange, but relieving.

"Malfoy," he answered cordially, shaking some of the water off his hands as he reached for a towel to dry the rest off. As he did, Malfoy also reached for the towel, forcing Ron's attention to him and the partially-visible, faded Dark Mark on his arm. Not only the Mark, but countless slashes mutilating his skin and twisting the image. He looked up at Malfoy, seeing how his face shut off completely, but not before he flushed in embarrassment and . . . shame?

Ron decided then to do something he'd been fantasizing about doing ever since Malfoy didn't sell them out to Bellatrix after they were captured. He never thought he would act on his deeply-buried desire for Malfoy, especially because he'd never apologized for anything that happened, but that the look on Malfoy's face was enough of an apology for him.

Malfoy drew his arm away to pull his sleeves down, eyes downcast and nose tilted up as though trying to regain his composure and not knowing how. Ron lightly grabbed his forearm and bent down to press a kiss to the Dark Mark. He met Malfoy's eyes as he did, touch light and purposeful, allowing Malfoy to pull away whenever he pleased. The blond's eyes widened, not drawing his arm away or immediately hexing Ron like he thought. Instead, he seemed frozen to the spot, mouth open slightly and pupils dilating when Ron's lips met his skin. His eyes fluttered shut and he let out a shaky breath.

This was the best apology Malfoy was going to get—did he know that? That Ron kept thinking about Malfoy, even though they hadn't seen each other in almost a year? That he could never forget the look on Malfoy's face when they all thought that Harry had died?

He straightened up slowly, eyes still locked on Malfoy's, gaze heavy and longing for things he wasn't sure that either of them were ready for.

"Weasley—" Malfoy started before his voice broke, the words soft and not at all angry or harsh like Ron expected. He broke eye contact and stared at the floor, chest rising and falling rapidly. He didn't like seeing Malfoy like that, not used to him turning his eyes away.

"Malfoy," Ron said, his voice involuntarily deepening as he stepped a bit closer to the blond. He kept walking forward once he heard Malfoy's breath hitch and his cheeks flush deeply at their actions and the sound of Ron's voice. He backed Malfoy against the bathroom wall, leaning in close to him as he tilted the man's head up to meet his eyes. Ron had never been close enough to see the silver specs in them, or how he had a dark, almost black, ring of color around his light grey irises.

"Is this okay?" he asked lowly, needing to make sure before he did something that Malfoy wouldn't want. To his surprise, the blond nodded and tilted his head back slightly to brush his lips against Ron's. He felt Malfoy lick his lips after, his tongue grazing Ron's upper lip with how close they still were. They were both breathing deeply, almost panting, waiting for the other to move.

It seemed as though they got tired of waiting at the same exact moment, both rushing forward to kiss each other properly. His lips were soft and moved on his own like how they used to argue, meeting each other for every word spoken.

"Let me take you some—somewhere else," Ron panted as Malfoy starting to remove their clothing, stopping their fervent kisses to ask. The blond nodded and crashed his lips against Ron's again to shut him up, as if he meant for Ron to take him somewhere else _later. _They unbuttoned each other's shirts, hands wandering to unbuckle belts. Malfoy pushed his tongue into his mouth, suggestively grinding his hips against Ron's. He groaned low in his throat.

"I'm taking you somewhere else," Ron murmured against his lips, hoisting Malfoy up, legs wrapping around his waist. Malfoy clung tightly to him as he Apparated out of the bathroom to the first place that popped into his head: George's flat above Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. George was at the Burrow, so he knew no one was there. And besides, he didn't think George would mind.

"God, Weasley," Malfoy gasped as Ron pinned him against the door of the flat. He groaned, kissing him again and removing more and more clothes. Part of Ron wanted to stop, to tell Malfoy that this was all a mistake and that they were just going to hate each other again after it, but the greater part of him squished out that voice. He didn't really hate Malfoy at that moment, or any moment in the bathroom, so he wanted to think he wouldn't suddenly hate him afterwards.

And besides, was there really a point in trying to pretend he didn't desperately want to do this with Malfoy?

~xXx~

"_So_ . . . how did it go?" Ron asked curiously, walking into the Great Hall with Hermione for breakfast. Harry was flying on his own, having already eaten, but Ron had stayed behind that time so he could ask Hermione about how her date with Neville went. As soon as he asked her, she started blushing and beaming, making Ron laugh.

"Well . . ." Hermione started, flustered, blush deepening as she thought of what to say. Ron took that as a good sign, starting to tease her for it as they found the place they always sat at for breakfast.

"Mr. Weasley," Minerva's stern voice came from behind them. His grin dropped, as did Hermione's, as he turned and saw Minerva standing behind him. Her mouth was pressed thin, making a small knot of anxiety form in his stomach, wondering what he could've done wrong _this time_.

"Yes, professor?" he asked, long used to this direction of conversation with Minerva after years of hearing it from her. Despite having gotten to know her better after the war in a less professional setting, he knew she wouldn't like to be called by her first name from a student.

"There is a visitor here to see you," she replied shortly.

Her mouth gave everything away; she was clearly angry. Ron glanced over at Hermione, who looked just as confused as he felt—why wouldn't she say who it was and why was she so upset? His eyebrows furrowed, opening his mouth to ask who it was before Minerva continued:

"He's outside, I believe, by the lake. Waiting for you." Her lips pressed tighter as she said it, nostrils flaring and her posture straightening. He wanted to sink into the floor from the look she gave him. "I suggest you meet him immediately."

Ron didn't need to be told twice. He glanced at Hermione in alarm, who was frowning in sympathy and worry, before hoisting his bag over his shoulder and quickly walked out of the Great Hall down towards the lake. The sky was slowly darkening with grey clouds, making him more anxious about the possibility of it raining while he was outside.

He thought that it must've been his father, or maybe George, because who else would come to see him in person? Why not just owl him? Something must've been happening, then. He rushed down towards the lake, but hesitated when he got closer.

It made a little more sense when he saw Malfoy, sitting in the sand and gravel by the water, the small waves of the lake lapping at his feet. Ron understood now why he hadn't just been owled and why McGonagall didn't say his name. He suspected that Malfoy wouldn't want someone to overhear that, though he still didn't understand why Malfoy was even there.

That wasn't to say he'd forgotten that they had sex on Christmas Eve. How could he? It was easy to recall every little detail and Ron still did, most nights. If it had anything to do with that, then why was Malfoy _just then_ coming to speak to Ron? Why not just send him a letter? The only thing he could think is that maybe Malfoy wanted to hex him or argue in person, but somehow that didn't make sense either. It seemed more of a Malfoy thing to verbally argue instead of physically.

"Malfoy," Ron greeted him casually as he neared the blond, feet crunching on the gravel beneath him. He stuck his hands in his pockets as he looked down at Malfoy. It was chilly outside in the February air, especially by the Black Lake, and he pulled his sleeves down.

"Weasley," Malfoy replied easily, not looking up to meet Ron's eyes as he did. His shoulders were slightly hunched, a very un-Malfoy thing to do, hair looking frazzled and unkempt. Something was wrong and whatever it was, it was probably Ron's fault. Either that, or Malfoy suddenly decided that apologies needed to be said or they needed to talk about what happened in December.

"Why are you here?" Ron asked, trying not to be rude about it, after a long pause. Malfoy still didn't look at him, instead put his face in his hands, letting out a quiet sigh. Ron swallowed. He wasn't really happy, per say, to see Malfoy, but he didn't _like _seeing the man like this. He'd seen enough hurt during the war—_more_ than enough, even from Malfoy.

"You might want to sit down for this," the blond said after a moment, sounding exhausted. Ron was skeptical, but sat down beside him anyway. The ground was wet and cold, but he could see that Malfoy's eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. He could also see that the blond had lost weight since they'd last seen each other, which made him look frail.

He felt anger twist in his chest, sudden and vehement, at whatever caused Malfoy to get to that state. He shook the feeling off, confused about why he felt it, and waited for Malfoy to say what he wanted to say.

"I'm pregnant," the words finally came. Ron furrowed his eyebrows and shifted uncomfortably. Did he hear that right? Malfoy was _pregnant_. And there would be no other reason for him to know unless it was his. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought about it more. He knew how rare it was for these things to happen, considering it had to be between two Purebloods, and it was hard enough to come by two Pureblood men who were in the position to be with each other, and only if their magic was compatible enough to do it. He didn't want to think about that last bit; he didn't think he could quite take that right then. He'd always wanted kids, but with someone he had hated most of his life and a pregnancy they never planned for? He really fucked up this time.

"Did you—when did you—are you. . .?" he stuttered after a moment. He didn't even know what he was trying to ask. There was _so much_ to ask.

"Am I sure I'm pregnant, or am I sure it's yours?" Malfoy asked, practically snarled at him, and turned a hard stare at him. Ron shook his head, shoving down his flaring anger. He didn't _mean _it like that. But of course Malfoy took it that way.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what to say," he finally said, shrugging. Malfoy sighed, and Ron turned his gaze away to look at the lake.

"At least it's not raining," Ron offered after a moment of tense, awkward silence, offering a small smile. He glanced at Malfoy, unsure, and realized after a moment that the blond's lips were slowly curving into a reluctant smile. Ron watched, amazed and surprised by the sight of Malfoy's actual smile_._ Malfoy flushed the more he stared. He broke into a grin as he watched, not able to believe that he'd gotten the man to smile _and _blush. Especially in that moment. It seemed to him that he'd gotten lucky enough for Malfoy to try and see the best in the situation.

It was just then, as if on cue, that the sky broke and it started to drizzle on them, rain steadily becoming heavier the longer they sat there.

"You're shit at this whole comforting thing, Weasley," Malfoy said, leaning his head on his hand and staring at Ron, smile widening. He realized then that Malfoy was _teasing_ him. Where was that coming from? He thought that, if the blond smiled at him like that more when they were younger, they would've gotten along a lot better than they had.

Their eyes met and their smiles slowly faded as they just looked at each other, taking it all in. Malfoy licked his lips, grey eyes darker than Ron remembered, before scooting closer and closer to Ron until their sides were pressed together, staring at his lap. Ron's heart was hammering in his chest as he thought about what he wanted to do. Instead of thinking about it and psyching himself out, he reached up and gently tilted Malfoy's chin towards him. He chastly kissed the blond, feeling those soft lips against his again, trying to comfort him, and threaded his fingers with Malfoy's. He glanced at their hands before he looked back up at the blond, who was smiling faintly. His eyes were still sad, though.

Ron wished he could take that look away.

Apart from his heartbeat, he felt completely at ease with Malfoy, in the way he always used to during a fight. Fighting with Malfoy came naturally to him, and somehow, so did holding his hand and kissing him. Even if they hadn't quite gotten ahold of talking yet.

Ron found himself thinking that he was wasn't opposed to the idea of talking to Malfoy, of learning how to do it.

When he pulled away, he squeezed Malfoy's hand and grabbed his wand to cast the water-repelling charm on their clothes and faces. He also cast a warming charm on them when he noticed that Malfoy was starting to shiver. It was nice, sitting there with Malfoy, holding his hand. He still couldn't wrap his mind around it.

"I'm not going to leave," Ron muttered after a few minutes. "In case you were worried about that."

"I . . . wasn't sure what to think. I've been doing a lot of thinking lately," Malfoy said. Ron squeezed his hand reassuringly. It still hadn't quite hit him yet, that he was going to be a father with _Malfoy_, of all people, but he knew he wouldn't change his mind. Malfoy wasn't so bad, so he supposed they could learn to live together, and he would never abandon his kid.

"So . . . what are we going to do? I mean, I don't really think you want to live at the Burrow, and I don't particularly want to live at Malfoy Manor, so what're we going to do?" Ron asked nervously, rambling on despite himself. Malfoy squeezed his hand slightly.

"Bottle cap," he mumbled. Ron looked at him in confusion.

"What?" he asked. Malfoy smiled, caught himself, and forced himself to stop smiling. Ron wondered why. He didn't mind Malfoy smiling around him.

"Put a cap on it, Weasley. We don't have to think about all of that now. Pansy always says that to me when I get ahead of myself," he said, fondness for Parkinson evident in his voice. Ron wouldn't forget what she'd done during the Battle of Hogwarts, but he supposed he understood it, considering they'd probably been friends since birth.

"Okay," he said, noddly slowly. They were silent for what felt like hours, staring out over the lake, watching as the Giant Squid's tentacles splashed above the water. Ron had a question nagging him, in the back of his mind ever since Christmas. He figured it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"Why were you there? At the Royal Opera House?" he said, glancing at Malfoy after he asked. The rain fell heavier, the sound of it hitting the water and rocks around them getting louder as Malfoy thought about what to say.

"Pansy convinced me to go with her. She said I wouldn't regret getting out of the house for once," he said, voice heavy with some emotion that Ron couldn't recognize. He squeezed his hand.

"Did you fall asleep too?" he asked lightly, meeting Malfoy's eyes.

"Yes," he whispered, but Ron still heard him over the rain. There was a frown set deep in his face, and Ron found himself frowning too. He was going to have to ask Hermione about some of those new "friends" she'd made, and if any of them happened to be Pansy Parkinson. That sounded far too coincidental for it to actually be a coincidence.

But for now, he was content to sit on that log, forgetting about classes and anything other than Malfoy's hand in his own, not even _trying_ to stamp down the hope that he might call him Draco one day.

* * *

A/N: Started this around half a year ago. Stopped because some stuff happened that made it hard to work with the concept of it. But here I am, and here you are, and hopefully that means things are looking up from here. Sorry for it probably being a bit rushed and inconsistent. Thanks for reading. :)


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